


Bad Month

by DinkerTadoodle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Co-workers, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Post-Second War with Voldemort, Slow Burn, minor ron bashing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2020-06-03 11:34:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19463143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinkerTadoodle/pseuds/DinkerTadoodle
Summary: One bad month for the youngest ever minister for magic changes everything.





	1. The Girl Who Had a Headache

Hermione had a migraine. It was the latest in a long string of migraines, and if she was being honest with herself, a welcome excuse to end the meeting with the muggle prime minister a tad early. She had been meeting with her more and more frequently corresponding with the heightened increase in attacks on muggles in the recent year. She had prayed they were not magical in origin, she had hoped they were not dark magic… yet here they were. It seemed even ten years after the fall of Voldemort there were still those in the wizarding world who held the old ways. The woman was insufferable. She held Hermione in contempt as the youngest ever Minister for Magic, and yet simultaneously expected her to instantly solve  _ all  _ the problems. Perhaps she was feeling the pressure of her re-election campaign, but that’s no excuse to be such an unbelievable twat. She pinched her eyes closed, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyelids until she saw stars. “Fuck!” She spat into her empty office. 

“Bad time?” Harry’s voice interrupted from her doorway. She sighed, eyes still squeezed shut. 

“Bad month.” She amended, cracking one eye open to look at her friend. He was standing in her doorway, hair disheveled in an endearing way, as if he had been running his hands through it all day. He was dressed in a simple white business shirt, sleeves pushed up to his elbows, auror robes draped over one arm and a bag full of takeaway in the other. 

“I knew you had a meeting with that slag tonight so,” he wiggled the bag of food. It was so achingly familiar, and so genuinely touching that he had taken time out of his equally demanding schedule to try and cheer her up. Her eyes watered against her will and Harry smiled in commiseration. 

“Nox,” he muttered, taking her silence as an invitation, not that he needed one. Her office dimmed blissfully and Harry set about dressing their makeshift meal in the low light. She yanked her own robes off and threw herself into her chair, damning her freshly pressed dress to the wrinkles of anger and indifference. 

“She’s just so unpleasant,” Hermione said as Harry slid a carton of green curry across the desk to her. 

He scoffed. “She’s a cunt.”

“Harry…” she chided, unable to keep the smile from her voice. He grinned at her in a lopsided manner that had graced the cover of with weekly more times than she could count. It was… understandable, she thought reluctantly. They lapsed back into a comfortable and familiar silence as they ate. 

She reflected on her month. The month from hell. It began with her probably inevitable but very public break up with Ron and had continued with him snogging Lavender Brown plastered all over the daily prophet every day since. Rita Skeeter had been in the regular, terrible form...

_ HEARTBREAK FOR MINISTER.  _

_ Youngest ever Minister for Magic splits with long-term boyfriend Ronald Weasley. The Red-Headed war hero reportedly left Miss Granger for former flame Lavender Brown, a pretty and vivacious young witch who is heading up a seer firm in Diagon Alley. A source close to Miss Brown tells us that Ronald had been unhappy in the relationship for some time. Perhaps if Miss Granger had spent more time with her beau and less time spending long hours at the office, things would have ended more happily for her and Ronald. As it were, sources say that the young minister is almost never without the company of none other than Harry Potter! Of course, no one would blame her if the long-time friends developed into something more over long hours at the office.-- _

She had hissed and ripped the paper in half, glaring at the pieces in her hands. Ron had confronted her that morning as she arrived for work, practically thrust a copy of Witch Weekly into her face, accusing her of the very things Rita would have her readers believe. He had said some truly horrific things, calling her cold and unfeeling. Harry had actually come very close to slugging him if Hermione hadn’t jumped onto his arm at the last minute. Flashbulbs erupted from every angel as Harry ushered her into the elevator. Rita had loved every second of it. 

Seeming to sense her train of thought Harry wordlessly summoned the muggle scotch she kept in the bottom drawer of her desk and filled two tumblers with a healthy pour. “Look at us.” He said, tipping the brim of his glass against hers. “Youngest minister for magic in history and youngest head auror in history… both absolutely  _ shite  _ at love.” Harry had his own break up with Ginny almost a year ago. It wasn’t nearly as dramatic as Hermione and Ron’s, but he had been crushed all the same. They just could never get back to where they had been before the war, and Ginny was never able to move past the fact that Harry hadn’t trusted her enough to bring her along. Hermione understood, as the only girl and youngest of seven she had always had to prove herself in every aspect of her life. She had remained quite a close friend of Ginny’s even after the break up. And Harry was still welcome at the burrow like another son to Molly and Arthur. Hermione realized now that she never wanted that life, never wanted to be the ‘Molly’ to Ron’s ‘Arthur.’ 

“And to think Dumbledore said it was your greatest weapon.” She said, reveling in the genuine laugh that escaped from Harry’s mouth. After their wry chuckling subsided he settled back into a thoughtful moment of silence. 

“Hermione?”

She sipped on her scotch. “Hm?”

Harry tilted his head at her, something unrecognizable in his gaze… Or rather, something he had never directed at her before. She was grateful for the low lighting and prayed it would hide the pink of her flush. “Why do you think nothing ever happened between us?” She nearly choked on her scotch, causing him to smile apologetically. 

“What?” She sputtered, dabbing at the front of her dress. His eyes sought hers like they always did when he was being sincere. 

“Why didn’t anything ever happen between us?”

“Harry…”

“We love each other, we get along so well, I don't trust anyone else more so… what was it?” His green eyes sparkled at her from behind his glasses. 

“I… don’t know. You had Ginny and Ron and I were mad about each other for a long time. I--”

“Did you ever think about it?” He asked, earnestly. She felt her cheeks flush and knew he had seen. Damn his Gryffindor courage. Of course she had thought about it. She had grown up with him, witnessing him take on the burden of heroism while growing into a handsome young wizard. It was their formative years and she had not been immune to his charms, much like many of her female classmates. There had just been the constant threat of death to distract her then… 

“Yes.” She said. “But Harry-”

He stood up, eyes sparkling with mischief, and her breath faltered. 

“And…” He rounded the corner of her desk, setting his glass down as he did so. “You find me attractive?” His eyebrows raised confidently, but she sensed the sincerity behind the question. 

She flushed again. “You know you’re attractive.”

“And you’re beautiful.” He took her glass from her limp hand and placed it beside his own. His large, calloused hands engulfed her small ones and he pulled her to her feet. 

“Harry--” she hadn’t been able to fully comprehend what was happening. Her heart thrummed pleasantly against her sternum as Harry snaked a hand to her back, pulling her close. She felt a twinge of  _ something  _ she hadn’t felt in a long time if she was being honest. Maybe this didn’t have to be a big deal. Maybe… 

“Hermione,” he muttered, brushing her nose with his own. 

“Hm?” She was breathless. 

“Stop thinking so hard.”

She parted her lips in a huff of laughter which Harry effectively cut off. His lips were soft against hers, they moved together naturally, and she felt a tightening in her belly that signaled her body agreed with this, her body  _ liked  _ this. Her fingers found his messy raven locks as he deepened the kiss, his own hands finding her hips. In a show of sheer masculine proof of just how much he had grown, he clear lifted her onto the surface of her desk and stepped in between her thighs, the skirt of her dress riding up with the movement. He pulled away at her gasp and searched her face. 

“Alright?” He asked, breathing hard. She didn’t answer him with words...

  
  



	2. Wands Out, Wards Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day gets interesting.

###  **Chapter Two:**

“Well then…” She breathed. 

“Yeah...”

“That’s one way to cheer a girl up.”

“Yeah?” Harry turned to face her, propping his cheek upon a fist. It was a boyish gesture that paired well with the sheer manliness of his naked form. She bit her lip. “Yes Harry, full marks.”

He raised his eyebrows once, “if you want to do the whole student-professor thing… I could be amenable.” 

She swatted his chest. “Prat.” He caught her hand with his free one, his eyes dropping and his lips turning downwards into a familiar frown. It was a frown of someone who always carried the weight of everyone else on their shoulders, it was a frown of contemplation and guilt and responsibility. “Don’t do that.” She said, her own eyes suddenly watery. 

“Do what?”

“Regret.” 

His lips quirked once. “Impossible. It’s just…” She followed his train of thought to their mutual best friend slash her former irritating, brutish, irresponsible, long term boyfriend. Keyword, former. Very much former. “I don’t want to become Ron to you. I don’t want to break us.” 

Hermione snorted a rather unladylike snort, to which Harry just grinned. “Impossible.” He released a breath of relief and kissed her knuckles. It was a sweet gesture and one that made her heart clench with love. Not necessarily romantic love, it was purer than that. It was a love between two people who would do anything for each other, and really that’s all that mattered, everything else was secondary. 

“You know I love you.”

She smiled as he voiced her own thoughts aloud. “And I, you. Nothing can change that.”

“So… what do you want this to be?” She wasn't used to the shyness with which he spoke all of a sudden. 

“Well, Harry you really should have considered all of this before you jumped me in my office.” She scolded, but without heat. He had the grace to look slightly sheepish. 

“It was hardly a jump,” he admitted, “been standing on that cliff for a long time now.” 

Now it was her turn to blush. 

“You didn’t answer my question, though.” 

“I think…” she took a steadying breath. “Neither of us are in a place to commit to a new relationship right now, or even know if that is what we want. You are my best friend. Nothing will change that. And I think this was lovely and we are two consenting adults who can just… see where it leads?”

Harry nodded along while she spoke, clearly agreeing with all of her points. “And I think that was a very diplomatic answer,  _ minister _ .” 

She smacked him again and then leaned in to press her cheek against his bare chest, feeling the reverberations of his chuckle beneath her flushed skin. She inhaled, savoring one more moment of intimacy, and he pressed a kiss to her hair. 

“I kinda always knew…” he mumbled, “you excel at everything.”

A shrill, blaring alarm suddenly filled the room. Both of them, acting on instinct, flew to their feet, wands flying wordlessly into their summoning hands, clothes repairing themselves around their bodies as they leapt into action. Harry was suddenly every inch the youngest head auror in history as they tore into the hallway, robes billowing out behind him as he soundlessly threw up walls of protective charms around Hermione and himself. “Jones!” He snapped at the first auror he saw, “report.” The young, hazel-eyed wizard shrugged an arm into a sleeve of his robes, clearly returning from a meal break. 

“No idea, alarm sounding on every floor from the looks of it. I was in the cafeteria and no one there seemed clued in either.” He noticed Hermione behind Harry and bowed his head in greeting, “Minister.” 

“Alright, any auror you pass make sure they’re keeping people calm. Until we know what this, panic will do nothing but worsen it.” The young man nodded once again and jogged off the other direction. 

Another voice sounded the second they stepped off the elevator into the atrium, followed by a chorus of a hundred more. “Minister! Mister Potter! Is this related to the recent increase in Muggle attacks?” 

“--is this related to your new early age magical integration law, minister?”

“--are there death eaters in the ministry?”

“--is Voldemort alive?” 

“ _ ENOUGH _ !” Harry roared, his voice magically amplified by a  _ sonorous  _ charm Hermione didn’t hear him cast. His voice echoed around the hall and effectively quieted the cacophony of reporters, if you could call them that, leaving nothing but the occasional wizz of a flashbulb and the blaring siren call. “You will be privy to pertinent information as soon as we have any to share with you. The minister and I are confident that this is in no way related to any known Death Eater activity. That’s all for now.” He pushed Hermione in front of him and they made their way down the long row of fire grates towards the DMLE offices. Harry muttering curses at the reporters as they strode had Hermione biting back a smile despite the situation. 

“Rita has really done a number on this year’s crop. 

“They’re all worthless, limelight starved, badgering, mother _ fu _ \--” Hermione hissed him silent as they entered the offices. A handful of Auror’s spun around, wands out and wards up, like Harry taught them. She smiled what she hoped was a comforting smile at the group of young recruits. To be honest, she was growing concerned with every blare of the alarm, and the smile didn’t reach her eyes. 


	3. Old Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day remains interesting...

###  **Chapter Three:**

As she surveyed the mixture of fresh and veteran faces her comforting smile faltered. They were all looking at her with different measures of concealed sympathy and shame. 

“What—” she started, but Harry’s growling voice interrupted her. 

“Show me.” He growled. 

A few faces that she recognized from frequent meal visits with Harry, and having a particular interest in the DMLE herself stepped forward. Mariah, a promising young recruit that reminded Hermione of Ginny lifted her chin up at the challenge. “It’s in the atrium.” She said, her eyes flickering over to Hermione. “It’s upsetting.” She said more to Hermione than to Harry. 

Hermione resisted the urge to scoff. “I can handle it.” She said to Mariah’s proud smile. The young girl had sought her out when she had received her placement in the Auror’s office asking for her advice regarding navigating the ‘boys clubs’ of the Ministry as a woman, and a muggleborn at that. Hermione had politely given a vague response, but her reticence to be a figurehead had not deterred the young recruit. She smirked back at the girl as she lead Harry and Hermione from the office, flawlessly giving stern but polite orders to those who parted like the red sea as they passed. Harry simply nodded in agreement with the orders he deemed necessary, and added on notes to ones he felt incomplete. Hermione did not miss the pleased smile he shot Mariah’s way as he stood aside to allow them into the lift ahead of him. She raised her eyebrow in question.  _ Pleased with yourself, aren’t you.  _ She communicated in the wordless manner that had become commonplace between them. He shrugged, but his eyes held a hint of mischief.  _ Maybe I can retire early.  _ He seemed to say.

In the silence of the lift the echo of the alarm left her ears ringing. The operator didn’t ask their destination, he simply stared ahead and lurched them into movement. Several memos that had been floating lazily around the lift began buzzing excitedly and nipping gently at Hermione’s hair. She knew it must look a mess, freshly tousled and all, and she swatted at them with a huff. “Relax, Granger.” A drawling voice said from the back of the lift. “They just think that bird’s nest is home.” She didn’t need to turn around to know who it was, but she did anyways. She hadn’t seen him in several months, knowing he had been away on curse breaking duties in eastern Europe. He seemed freshly back, as his hair was also grown longer and quite unkempt, and the spattering of stubble around his jaw and throat cast him into harsher shadow than normal.

“Malfoy.” She and Harry had greeted him at once. She continued, “I didn’t realize you had returned from Albania.”

“And I didn’t realize you were following my career, Granger.”

“That’s  _ Minister _ , to you Malfoy.” Mariah said sharply. Malfoy ignored her. 

Hermione smiled at the young witch, but quickly turned her gaze to Malfoy once more. “That is my job, after all.” The Blond rolled his eyes at their antics and focused on Harry. 

“Let’s get this over with, I haven't been home yet.” Harry nodded as the elevator changed direction towards the atrium.

“You asked him here?” Hermione asked Harry, mildly surprised as this situation was a surprise to all of them merely minutes ago. 

“He was due to deliver his report of his mission. I assume when the alarms started he decided to hang around?” Harry raised a questioning eyebrow at Malfoy who simply nodded once. 

“Actually I came through the atrium on my way to the DMLE.” His tone shifted into a more serious note and his eyes flicked to Hermione and then back to Harry. “Figured you might want my input.” His voice tapered off and he actually looked somewhat nervous, as if Harry was about to revert to his fifteen year old self and spit vitriol back at him for being so presumptuous. Hermione was about to open her mouth to say… something — when the lift screeched to a halt, jostling them all forwards slightly. The operator opened the door and kept his gaze resolutely at the floor as they exited. 

The area had been cleared of all personnel and their footsteps echoed across the eerily quiet black marble chamber as they followed Mariah, and slightly behind her Malfoy. They strode purposefully towards the huge fountain that had been erected after the fall of Voldemort. Gone was the despicable piece of propaganda that had been there in their school days, and in its place a glistening, ethereal fountain sculpted of all kinds of magical creatures standing equally, surrounded by suspended plants and gardens of all shapes and colors. The normally beautiful centerpiece looked almost imposing in its singular motion in the huge empty room. They rounded the corner of the fountain and Harry stopped up short, Hermione breezing past him towards the giant, blood red letters. 

‘DIE MUDBLOOD MINISTER’

They all held their breath and the absolute silence made Hermione momentarily paranoid that someone had cast muffliato around them. She looked around to her companions. Harry was red-faced and looking mutinous, Mariah was glaring at the letters as if they were meant for her and not Hermione. Malfoy had his eyes cast down but when Hermione looked to him he glanced up to meet her gaze. Unreadable. His face was as hard as the marble beneath their feet. She tore her eyes away from the grey storm of his and focused on the letters in front of them. She walked forward to where there were splatters of the liquid on the floor and she knelt in her sheath of a dress, her knees swinging to the side as she pressed two of her fingers to the red. It was too sticky to be human blood. She sniffed it and finally touched a finger to her tongue briefly and then spat. “Dragon’s blood.” She said standing up again. Harry sniffed in distaste. “Well…” she said looking back up at the words, “you don’t think there’s a chamber of secrets in the ministry, do you?” Trying for levity. No one laughed. She didn’t blame them. 

Mariah blinked her eyes rapidly. “You should go on leave.” Her voice was thick with emotion.  _ That  _ did make Hermione laugh. 

“I will do no such thing.” She said, crossing her arms. One of which still bore the same slur that was painted on the wall. “I’ve been called worse.” 

Harry stepped towards her. “This isn’t name-calling, Hermione. It’s a threat.” 

“Harry—”

“A  _ direct  _ threat. To your life.”

“With nothing to substantiate it!”

“And thank  _ fucking  _ Merlin for that!”

“You can’t expect me to just—”

“As  _ Head Auror  _ compliance with any plan I lay out for your safety is to be followed.  _ That  _ is my expectation.”

“As Minister for  _ bleeding  _ Magic I can look after my own safety, thank you.” Her breath was coming out in pants of anger and exhilaration alike. Part of her felt a jolt of adrenaline that she hadn’t felt since the war, and an even smaller part of her craved it,  _ missed  _ it. She hated that part of herself. Harry was in her face, refusing to back down, every bit the stubborn lion that she was. 

Mariah looked between the two of them and letters once more before bowing her head, realizing that this was more than a power struggle between colleagues, but a debate between friends. “I’ll get a task force together.” She said tightly before striding back towards the lifts. 

“Granger,” Malfoy began, snapping bothHarry and Hermione out of their staring contest. “My work keeps me in contact with some… unsavory people.” She scoffed at this. He leveled her with a look but continued on, “I don’t know the details yet but,” he glanced at Harry, “there is legitimacy to these threats.” 

Harry spat out a curse. “Why did you wait until now to come forward with this information?” He demanded. Hermione wondered the same, but should she be that surprised? Sure, Voldemort fell and the Death Eaters are few and far between now, but how much Blood Prejudice remained in those who decided it was easier to simply integrate into society? How much remained in Draco Malfoy? He had made quite a name for himself in the Ministry working alongside the DMLE as a top cursebreaker. He had donated and paid reparations after the war and sold off the old Manor as soon as his mother moved in with Andromeda. He had done all the right things, but Hermione didn’t know him outside of a passing nod of acknowledgement in the ministry between his comings and goings. 

Malfoy shrugged one shoulder. “That’s just the way these people talk. Everyone who holds the old ways gossip about Granger’s death, what they would do to get her off the High Chair.” He regarded Hermione with a cool detachment. “Amongst other things they would do to her.” Hermione refused to let his words rattle her, even as Harry rubbed his hands over his face in frustration. She had an inkling that he was testing her, seeing what would elicit a reaction from her. 

“So what makes you think this threat is any different?” Harry asked. 

“Potter do you know how many different wards are in place? The Dar— You Know Who himself would have a hard enough time breaking in, planting this,” he gestured at the blood, “and escaping undetected. Anyone willing and capable of doing that is serious about it.” If Harry noticed his stuttering over Voldemort’s old title he didn’t mention it, so Hermione held her tongue. Malfoy turned to her, meeting her eyes fully now. “Your new muggle law might have escalated the actions of some.” 

She bared her teeth in a sharp exhale. “It’s not a  _ muggle  _ law, Malfoy. It pertains to the education of young  _ witches _ and  _ wizards _ living in muggle households before Hogwarts.” He held up his hands in a placating manner as her voice rose more than was strictly necessary. 

“I’m just saying the timing is not to be ignored.”

“I wasn’t aware you followed my career, Malfoy.” She said, parroting his jab from earlier. He glared at her from beneath blond eyebrows. 

“Hard not to when everything you do is plastered across the prophet.” He cocked his head to the side. “How is The Weasel, by the way?” She felt the color drain from her face no matter how stoic she tried to remain. That was a low blow, and Malfoy knew it. They simply glared at each other while Harry paced anxiously beside them. 

She finally relented to tear her gaze from Malfoy’s to look to Harry. He looked back at her, at the words behind her, his brow softening to one of a concerned friend. He was twelve years old again, worrying his wand between his fingers and looking at her with such… she sighed heavily. “What do you suggest, Harry?” Her own tone softened to match his face and he gave her a soft smile. 

“Let me sleep on it.” He said after a moment. “But you’re staying with me tonight.” 

She didn’t argue. 


	4. What Next?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco gets a new job

Harry and Hermione stayed up late into the night discussing how to move forward and what to tell the public. Reporters seemingly lived in the corridors of the ministry; Hermione wondered if they slept there like people camping out at a music festival trading canteens and snacks. The thought made her snort with laughter in her delirious state. Harry lifted his eyebrows in question at her outburst.

“I’m sorry.” She said, wiping tears away from her eyes. “I’m tired.” He nodded in acceptance and began moving around Grimmauld place. She had settled herself on the sofa in the downstairs living room. Years of fond memories outweighing those of wartime. She watched as he magicked the remnants of their tea and biscuits into the sink where the dishes began washing themselves. Molly had probably taught him that one. His muggle t shirt and sweatpants suited him just as well as his auror robes she thought as he wordlessly double checked all the wards before turning back to her, worry etched across his features. She was struck by just how tired he looked, and felt guilty for being so distracted by Ron over the past few months. She had missed him. “Harry.” She whispered, crossing to him and taking him into her arms. 

“What was the point of the war if the world’s just gonna be shite anyways?” He muttered into her hair. 

“The point was to fight for what we believe, and that’s what we do every day now.” He pulled back enough to look down into her face. His gaze traveled across her features as his thumb traced the scar on her forearm. “Don’t you dare start pitying me now, Harry Potter.” She chided. This at least caused the corner of his lips to tick upwards, a little of the darkness leaving his gaze. 

“Never.”

“Let’s get some sleep.” She said, squeezing his hands with her own. He hesitated, his eyes darting towards the sofa behind her.

“You don’t have to stay out here you know…”

“I think,” her breath faltered slightly, “I think we will get more sleep if I do.” He bobbed his head in acknowledgment, his Adam's apple bobbing even as one of his hands moved to the small of her back.

“You’re definitely right about that.” His voice was pitched low, and the promise behind the words twisted pleasantly in her stomach. She silently warred with herself for several moments. If she saw him grin when she eventually relented and began leading the way towards his bedroom, she didn’t say anything. 

The ministry the next morning was the expected level of chaos. It seemed when it came to keeping secrets the men and women of the ministry were no better than the students of Hogwarts. “Merlin!” Hermione said as a reporter dashed right through the cup of tea she held in her hand, sending the scalding liquid onto her freshly pressed cream-colored dress. 

“So sorry there, Minister!” He squeaked as he hastily took out a handkerchief and began dabbing her chest. “Sorry sorry sorry.”

He squeaked again when an Angry looking Harry appeared at her side. “If you’re quite finished groping the minister?” The man took a stumbling step back, “ _tergio_.” Harry muttered clearing up the mess in a flash. The man’s face was now as red as a tomato. “ _Go_.” Harry growled, sending the poor fellow scurrying away into the raucous crowd.

“Poor thing.” Hermione tutted as Harry pushed a path for them along the row of fire grates towards the DMLE offices. They had decided first thing was to oversee the task force assigned to investigating the vandalism. Yes, Malfoy had accurately pointed out how difficult it would be to break _in_ , but Hermione wasn't so foolish to think it was impossible for the culprit to already be within the ministry. They would also be assigning her a protective detail while in the building, much to Hermione’s chagrin, but Harry would not budge on this. She had even tried to take advantage of his sluggish brain after round three, but he didn’t fall for it. “Not negotiable,” he had whispered against her stomach. They had then proceeded to completely obliterate their friendship after that in ways that left Hermione waking up more satisfied and rested than she had been in ages. 

“Morning,” Harry said upon entering the offices, the chatter and movement stopped as he and Hermione moved towards the center of the room. “I know we still have a ton of work to do, but the task force Auror Weeks,” he gestured to Mariah, “has put together is top priority. Someone has made a threat on the minister’s life, and that makes them a terrorist.” He paused for a beat, looking around the room at his aurors in turn, allowing the severity of the situation to sink in. Hermione tried to remain unaffected. Once Harry was satisfied that everyone was on board, he ushered her into the conference room next to his office, his hand on the small of her back did not go unnoticed by several of the aurors they passed, nor by the man waiting for them inside if his raised eyebrow was any indication. 

“Malfoy, to what do we owe the pleasure?” She asked politely, removing her robes and draping them over a chair. He glanced between her and Harry before shrugging.

“Ask Potter.” 

Silence. Silence for several moments as pieces ticked into place in her mind like a clock repairing itself. Hermione whirled on Harry who raised his hands defensively against her glare. When had he even had time to send an owl? 

“Hear me out.” He said, placating.

“No.”

“We agreed on a security detail, would let me do my job for Merlin’s sake?”

“You agreed on it. I did not.”

“Oh sodding… Hermione, this is not up for discussion!”

“Am _I_ a part of this discussion or—” Malfoy began, but Hermione interrupted.

“Why can’t you do it?” She snapped at Harry. “Or Mariah? I _trust_ her.”

“I’ll try not to be offended by that.” Malfoy said sarcastically. 

“Because I have six other open cases and a department to run, that’s why!”

“So, I’m just not high enough on your priority list then, is that it?”

Harry stepped back as if she had struck him and she instantly softened. She urged to reach out to him, but their current company made her pause. She released a heavy and sat down in the chair with her cloak on it. “I’m sorry, alright? You just kind of sprung this on me. I’ll hear you out.” 

Harry still scowled at the table as if it had personally offended him, but nodded as he too sat, gesturing for Malfoy to do the same. “Malfoy has recently returned from assignment and is available to begin a new one. He is a skilled duelist, curse breaker and is uniquely qualified to detect any dark magic." Malfoy looked wholly uncomfortable receiving praise from Harry, which caused Hermione a small comfort. "Mariah and I have a lengthy investigation in front of us, and…” he paused, seeming to need to think about how to phrase his thoughts. “And I don’t think I would be able to remain impartial enough to do the job correctly.” At this he met her gaze, “the job is determining what the safest option is for you at all times, whether you like it or not.” She heard what was left unsaid _I’m not the safest option_ and she hated that he was right. He was about to launch an investigation that would be putting him in the flashbulbs and the crosshairs, so to speak. She knew Malfoy could remain unaffected by what she wanted and therefore do a better job of making calculated decisions. “I trust him, Hermione.” Harry said, earnestly. 

“Can I say something?” Malfoy’s cool voice tore her gaze away from Harry’s. “If we do this, _you_ need to trust me.” He stated matter-of-factly, as if it were a switch she could flip. He looked to Harry, who nodded in encouragement for him to continue. “I know that I haven’t, personally, given you any reason to do so. If you have any questions that might help…” His grey eyes didn’t flinch when she looked into them, searching. 

“I only have one.” She said, knowing that she had waited nearly a decade to ask him. “Does my blood status matter to you?” His façade cracked ever so slightly, and she was pleased to have elicited surprise from him, however fleeting. 

“No.” He said finitely. When she didn't respond at first he let out an exasperated breath. "Do you want to question me under veritiserum?” She was ashamed how tempted she was by that offer, but she shook her head. 

“Trust comes from things we choose to share, Malfoy.” He regarded her for a moment before nodding.

“Alright.” He said, mask back in place. _“Bleeding Gryffindors.”_

Harry nodded too. “Good.” 

“Okay.” She said, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips. “What now?” 


	5. Long Day

Hermione was acutely aware of Malfoy’s presence as the pair awkwardly made their way to her office. She could not help but revert to her school-days-self, and worry that every little action would draw ridicule and torment from her childhood bully. She  _ knew _ it was childish, and hoped her feelings would normalize as they spent more time together… after all they were adults, and colleagues, he deserved at least that much. They arrived at her office after a tense and silent walk. She busied herself with setting up her desk for the day, laying out documents in the order she planned on working on them, when she noticed Malfoy lingering in the doorway. He briefly locked eyes with her, and although he was barely emoting, she saw the hesitation. They both knew, in any other circumstance, that he would  _ not _ be invited over the threshold. Although his mask of indifference was just as in place as ever, she watched as his eyes darted around her sparsely decorated walls, and she couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious at her lack of personal memorabilia, especially after her apparent “coolness and frigidity” had been plastered across  _ The Prophet _ for the past month. 

“Uh, you can make yourself at home there, I suppose.” She said, gesturing to the small, empty desk just inside the doorway. It was once occupied by her assistant, but after they proved to be little more than a hindrance and a nuisance, she had dismissed the seat altogether. He nodded, but did not sit down right away. Instead, he began pacing the walls of her office and setting up a series of complicated wards. 

“I could have performed those myself,” she muttered under her breath, feeling the need to defend herself, still sore from losing the debate about her protection needs. 

“Yes, well,  _ Head Auror _ Potter feels differently,” Malfoy said, somehow maintaining an air of mockery and intense indifference at the same time. She physically bit her tongue in order to prevent herself from snapping back at him. He smirked a little, as if he sensed her struggle to maintain a modicum of professional decorum. 

“Perhaps this would be easier for both of us if we did not speak.” She settled on saying. 

“Fine by me.” he spat, settling into the wobbly the desk chair, testing its reclining capability as if that was all he was to be doing for the foreseeable future. Hermione let out a long exhale through her nostrils and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. This was going to be a long day.  _ Another  _ long day in the series of long days. 

She was just about halfway through a long,  _ long  _ list of grievances by the Wizengamot against her new bill proposal, when Malfoy began sighing loudly, and shifting in his seat. They had worked mostly in silence for the better part of the day, but it seemed he was becoming restless. 

“Don’t you have your own work to attend to?” She asked, not looking up from her scroll. 

“As Potter said, I have just returned from assignment. I have nothing but paperwork and I can only procrastinate so well.” At his heavy sigh she glanced up, meeting his gaze. He was simply waiting, as if it were her direct responsibility to keep him entertained, as opposed to it being  _ his _ responsibility to keep her  _ alive _ . 

She let out her own frustrated breath, thinking briefly if she wanted to let one of her secrets loose to him. Thinking back to their morning briefing, she relented that she was supposed to be trusting him, and maybe an innocuous secret was a good place to start. With a silent wave of her hand she disillusioned her south-facing wall, revealing the small, cramped library she was able to stash in her office without drawing the attention of the misuse of magic department. Malfoy simply raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow in her direction. “I doubt you’ve read everything in there, most of it is my favorite muggle authors, leisure stuff,” she babbled, somewhat anxious to share this much of herself with this stonewall of a man. He stood and began to peruse the haphazard, overflowing shelves. It felt rather intimate, him, essentially a stranger, walking amongst her precious shelves. He might have sensed her discomfort because he glanced at her, his hand poised to pull a book down, awaiting her permission. She gave him a terse nod and sucked in a breath as he manhandled her worn copy of ‘Fellowship of the Ring’. “Merlin.” She gasped as he flipped through the pages. 

“Calm yourself, Granger.” He smirked up at her through his platinum blonde fringe. “I know how to care for a book.” 

“I’m surprised you admit your capability to care for anything, inanimate, or otherwise.” She snapped back at him, surprised at the ease with which she could tease him. It felt nostalgic to snipe with him, even though there was less heat than she remembered, it was almost… fond. His smirk widened when he snorted at her joke. 

“Best not insult me, Granger.” He flipped the book over to read the back cover, trying to manufacture his trademark disinterest. “Or are hidden libraries standard to all ministry officials?” 

She gave him her own little smirk, after all, she knew powerful magic when she saw it, even if it was often her own. “My own little variation of an undetectable extension charm.” His eyes flicked up to hers again. He pocketed the book, but lifted his brows in an impressed sort of manner. 

“Which is illegal, no?” 

She tsk’d at him, turning her eyes back to her work. “Not if they don’t know it exists.” She said in a sing-song voice under her breath. 

He said nothing for a long moment, content to browse amongst the shelves. “Mighty Slytherin of you.” 

She snorted with derision. “Never say that again.” 

They continued on like this for much of the day. He would ask questions about some of the muggle authors in her collection, and she would do her best to describe them while still focusing on her work. Honestly, his presence turned out to be a welcome distraction. She found that she was able to work on the minutia of her new law without the constant worry about a possible assassination attempt floating to the surface of every thought. They would occasionally snap at one another, level the other with a stern look, but then return to their respective tasks and move on. She supposed it was about as amicable as they were going to become, and she decided to just embrace it rather than try and fix it or quantify it. It was a risk-free partnership, because she went into it with nothing to lose. He was able to do his job, which she still felt was more to pacify Harry’s concerns than anything else, and she was able to do hers. 

“I’m just about finished here.” She said, as she neared the end of writing her last memo for the day. There was already a small flock floating in a serene circle above her head that she had steadily been adding to throughout the day. She sealed and stamped the final one, wordlessly sending them zipping out the door and to their intended recipients. “You can head out.” She posed it as an invitation, but meant it more as an order. She had a date with her bathtub, robe and whisky. With an internal sigh, she acknowledged the pile of work she would still be taking home with her on a Friday night. The Wizeongamot had posed significantly more negative feedback to her bill than she had imagined, not to mention all the establishment bullshit she had to deal with on a civilian level. The muggle prime minister was also breathing down her neck about a guarantee that dark magic was not behind the recent host of attacks, and she just hadn’t had the heart or the guts to tell her otherwise yet. With a heavy sigh, she shrank down the pile of papers in front of her, instead of leaving them on her desk, and transferred them to her satchel. 

“Seems Skeeter got a couple things right,” Malfoy said, shaking her out of her thoughts. 

She placed a startled hand against her heart, momentarily forgetting he was even there. “What?" 

He simply gestured to the paperwork. “You take your work home with you.” He said. 

“Oh,” She allowed her shoulders to relax a little. “Only when I have to. This new bill has been met with more negative feedback than I had anticipated.” 

He nodded, brushing unseen dust off his robes as he stood. “ _ Optimistic Gryffindor. _ ” He muttered. 

Hermione felt her face heat with anger. “Excuse me?” 

“Nothing.” He rolled his eyes, causing her to bristle defensively. 

“What I do with my work is none of your business.” She said, vanishing the hidden library with a violent wave of her hand. Malfoy shrugged once. “And Rita Skeeter is a vile woman capable of nothing but malice. She takes pleasure in ruining innocent people and-- and--”

“But she was right about you and Potter.” Malfoy said this as if it were fact, meeting her gaze dead-on, giving nothing up on his end. 

“ _ That _ …” she breathed, trying to control her emotions as much as possible, “is  _ absolutely _ none of your business.” How dare he mention Harry as if he knew anything about their relationship. Hell,  _ she  _ didn’t even know what their relationship was at the moment so  _ how dare he.  _ Malfoy tilted his head at her, about to open his mouth again when the very wizard in question appeared between them with the crack of apparition ringing in the still air. 

“Harry!”

“How--” Her and Malfoy had spoken simultaneously. 

“You can’t--” 

“I put up--” They tried again. 

“Those wards were child’s play, Malfoy. If you’re not going to take this seriously I will find you another post with significantly more paperwork.” Harry said, straightening his robes. 

“You can’t _apparate_ within the _Ministry_!” Hermione squawked. 

Harry gave a wry chuckle at that. “And who do you think is in charge of setting those parameters?” Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times, unable to form a coherent retort. “Come on,” Harry said, holding out his elbows to each of them. “I want to check out the wards at your place.” He said to Hermione. The fact that he was inviting Malfoy along as well, meant that he wanted to observe Malfoy’s capabilities. It was both a comfort and troubling that Harry didn’t yet trust Malfoy completely, even though he told Hermione just that morning that he did. She grabbed her robes and her belongings and then slipped her hand through the crook of Harry’s arm. Before she could even look to see if Malfoy had followed suit she felt the familiar tug of apparition behind her naval. 


	6. Unplottable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but a little more plot. Hope to have another chapter up tomorrow.

Hermione paced anxiously in her living room weathering the skin on the tip of her thumb between her teeth. Her flat was rather small, but she loved it. She tried to mimic the warmth and comfort of the Gryffindor common room by facing her furniture around her fireplace rather than a TV. Books were piled up on almost every flat surface, but in an organized enough manner that she could find what she needed in under a minute. 'Organized chaos' her mom had always called it. There were traces of her muggle upbringing littered amongst the remnants of her Hogwarts days, muggle photographs of her and her parents interspersed the moving ones taken more recently, a coffee maker and toaster on the kitchen counter that divided the living area from the kitchen. A shout and a bang from outside her front door made her jump. Harry and Malfoy had been combing every inch of her property for the past few hours, preforming the incredibly complicated spell to make her flat _unplottable_. She had offered her hand in helping, and was genuinely interested in learning the complex spell, but her natural curiosity had led to her asking them questions every ten seconds and Malfoy cast a not so subtle _muffliato_ on her which he had yet to lift. She banged on the front door since she couldn't shout at them. It swung open to reveal Harry, who pushed Crookshanks into her arms, and Malfoy who was clutching his thigh. "You have a beast of a pet, Granger." Her growled, red staining his grey trousers. She buried her face into Crookshanks' fur to hide her smile. _Good boy_ she mouthed soundlessly against him. 

"He's half Kneazle." Harry said by way of explanation. Malfoy just glared at Harry as if this was no explanation at all. Oblivious to the death glare, Harry turned to Hermione and muttered "finite" lifting the muffliato Malfoy had cast on her. 

"They're an incredibly good judge of Character." She said proudly. Malfoy gave her a withering stare. "Are you finished?" She asked, turning back to Harry. He let out a long sigh and scrubbed a hand across his stubbled jaw. 

"Yes. You're officially unplottabale." He said, "In fact I was thinking that you should make it standard procedure for high level ministry officials. It's a good practice especially for people with seats up for re-election. Put something in writing?" It was a smart idea and she nodded excitedly, flicking her fingers to her quill and ink-pot which scribbled down the reminder for tomorrow. "Show off." Harry muttered, pushing past her into living room. Malfoy followed, comically staying as far away from Crookshanks as possible. 

"Do you need anything else from me?" He asked Harry. 

"Yes actually. Unplottabale is a good start but I want to look into a Fidelius Charm as well." Hermione looked at Harry, she was sure the surprise was plastered across her features, along with concern. "Unplottable will guarantee that no one can find you," he explained, "but it won't work for people who might already know where you live, and I don't want us to rely solely on wards."

"I think you're being a little overzealous, Harry." She said, trying for a calm tone, but noticing the waver in her own voice. If he was trying to scare her then he was succeeding. That was the same charm that led to his own parent's being killed, and his godfather being locked away, not to mention the difficulty of the casting. 

"I'm not." He snapped, "Hermione if you stop looking at me like your best friend and start looking at me like Head Auror you would see that." He paused, waiting to see if she was going to interrupt, but her rightful shame held her tongue. "The task force will have finished their preliminary investigation into the vandalism by the end of the week, and then we can maybe _start_ to have an _idea_ of what we are dealing with. Casual threats like this aren't dangerous simply because of the maker, it emboldens and provokes hatred in others that might share the same views. That's not me being reactionary, that's a pattern that I have quantified with data." 

Malfoy, who had been casting a healing charm on his leg, spoke up. "I agree. Like I said before, there are plenty of people who want you out, whoever the responsible party is, they aren't the only danger to you now." 

Hermione sighed, still stroking Crookshanks who was purring loudly in her arms. "I will need to choose a secret keeper." She relented. Harry's shoulders rose and fell with his own sigh of relief. 

"I have never preformed one before, Malfoy?" Harry questioned. The blonde just shook his head one. "Right then. That'll be your homework. Figure out what we will need in order to preform one and keep me posted on your progress. Hermione, you'll need to think on who you want as your secret keeper." They both nodded as Harry spoke. She was briefly shaken by his ability to command a room, and a swell of pride warmed her chest as she thought how he deserved every bit of the Head Auror role. She made a mental note to remind him of this later, and apologize for second guessing him. "Right then," he said, resolute. "Malfoy you can go."

"The flu's hooked up." She said, "powder's on the mantle." After he was gone in a flash of green and not so much as a 'goodbye', Hermione plopped Crookshanks down on the back of the sofa where Harry was leaning.

She hesitated slightly, still unsure of the new waters she was treading with him. Dipping her toe in she circled around to stand in front of him and plucked at the front of his robes. "I'm sorry if it seemed like I have doubt in you." She said, swallowing against the lump in her throat. "I don't. I'm just... I'm scared." He bobbed his head once, eyes finding hers in the low light of late evening. 

"Me too." He searched her face, and she was content to let him. The longer he looked at her the more heat entered his gaze, his usually bright eyes now a deep emerald green. She felt her stomach flip in anticipation, and tried to simply enjoy the pounding of her heart as his hands moved to her hips. 

"Malfoy asked about us today." She said, pressing herself agains this chest, allowing him to fully enclose his arms around her. She felt his exhalation of surprise warm against her neck. 

"What did you say?" He placed a kiss against the skin behind her ear and she shivered against him. 

"He was being a prat, and it caught me off guard, I just said that it was none of his business." Harry just hummed against her. 

"What would you say if someone not being a prat had asked you?" She leaned back in order to look up into his face, lamenting in the loss of his warm breath against her neck. His eyes were questioning, but also a hint teasing. 

"Well you're being a prat too, so I can't really say." She ran her hands down the strong panes of his chest once, peeling away his robes as she moved them back. He allowed her to shove his robes away from him, leaving him just in his rumpled dress shirt and black slacks. All white and black against the orange backdrop of the fire, with only the deep green of his eyes sparkling behind his glasses as he watched her drink him in, he looked so damn good. She could have looked at him for a while longer, but Harry had other plans. Pushing himself away from the back of the sofa he made his way towards her, but instead of stopping in front of her he circled her until he was standing behind her. His hands pulled her own robes off her shoulders, allowing them to pool at her feet. He kissed the junction of her shoulder where it met her neck and she shivered again. Cool metal bit the skin of her spine as he slowly unzipped her dress. it joined her pile of robes on the ground, the silky material falling away from her like water. The thrill of standing in the middle of her living room in nothing but her underwear and her heels was new to her, exhilarating, the knowledge that it was Harry making her feel this way still a slight shock to her. This felt different from their first night together, which was all hushed laughter and teenage giddiness, that had been impulsive, but this was deliberate. She was worried what her emotions might do if she let him take his time with her. She was worried there would be no coming back from that. "Harry," she whispered, the gentle caress of his fingers against her arms bringing her back to the moment. 

"Hm?" his lips moved down her spine, and words failed her. He spun her around, his hands covering her hips. "What were you saying?" He asked, looking up at her with something akin to mischief from where he kneeled before her. His shoulders stretched enticingly against the white fabric of his shirt as he gently guided her to lean against the sofa as he had been. Mischief turned to hunger as he lifted one of her knees to his shoulder, and when he vanished her remaining layer with a wordless spell she lost all coherent thought. 

\-----------------------------------------------------------


End file.
